


Oh, jealousy, look at me now

by Gondolin



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blanket Permission, Exhibitionism, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Smut, non-negotiated exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin
Summary: Aron is not jealous of Tenma’s roommate. He is not. He is not a jealous person in general, such ugly, violent emotions are not like him at all. He just needs Yato to understand that Tenma is taken. He needs Yato to really, deeply, viscerally understand that.
Relationships: Alone/Pegasus Tenma
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Oh, jealousy, look at me now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hikary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikary/gifts).



Aron is not jealous of Tenma’s roommate. He is not. He is not a jealous person in general, such ugly, violent emotions are not like him at all. He just needs Yato to understand that Tenma is taken. He needs Yato to really, deeply, viscerally understand that.

Not that Yato is hitting on Tenma - _yet_ \- but he has that look in his eyes, and Aron can’t blame him for it, truly, since Tenma is, in fact, the most wonderful person who ever walked the Earth and it is absolutely normal to stare at him like he hung the moon and stars. In Aron’s humble opinion, everyone should look at him like that. But then again, it’s much better if most people don’t, because this makes Aron’s life easier.

Yato, though. He had some rough times with Tenma at the start of the semester, that’s true, but they are becoming friends now, which is great, Aron is happy about that. But Yato is starting to look less friendly and more smitten, and Aron is less than thrilled. Tenma is, as usual, oblivious. That is fine, it’s part of his charm.

So if Aron _forgets_ to put a sock on the door the next time he goes to visit Tenma, really, he can’t be blamed. It’s finals time for him as well, after all, he’s busy and tired and distracted like any other student. Possibly a little high on paint fumes too, considering all the time he spends in the art department studio.

Aron _knows_ when the door is about to open a crack. Call it instinct. His grip on Tenma’s wrists gets harder, more vicious, and he bites down on his boyfriend’s neck, right above his collarbone, in a way he knows will make Tenma whine, a helpless sound starting at the back of his throat and ripping out of him. It’s a melody Aron will never tire of hearing. It also covers the sound of the door opening just a crack and the aborted gasp coming from Yato. _Good_.

“Aron,” Tenma growls, tensing underneath him.

He’s not quite struggling - he’s physically stronger than Aron and could free himself in a heartbeat if he so wished. But this is not the game they’re playing. He might not be trying to get free with all his strength, but he still squirms, and Aron has to grip his waist tighter between his knees to avoid getting pushed off.

“Quiet,” he orders, and all the air leaves Tenma’s lungs in a slow, silent exhale.

But Tenma’s eyes are still alive with a fight and a fire Aron will never tire of, almost red in the evening light filtering through the dark curtains. His fingers itch for a brush, to paint Tenma’s eyes, to make his every expression immortal, to own him in the best way he knows. But his fingers are too busy mapping out Tenma’s warm skin now, holding him in place and stroking his cheeks, too alive to be put to a canvas.

Aron loves him so much his heart threatens to break in two sometimes. He imagines it, his own heart splitting at the seams and letting out a great big swarm of blood-coloured butterflies, his chest open for all to see all the love he could not contain. It’s like his soul is too big for his own body, like nothing he ever says or do will be enough to show Tenma just how precious he is.

So he chokes back the feelings he can never fully express in words, and focuses on bringing Tenma as much pleasure as he possibly can. He can’t quite stop the smile that breaks on his serious face, though, and a corner of Tenma’s mouth quirks up in response. He has to lean down to kiss that half-smile. It’s a quick, soft kiss, and then he goes back down to his neck. He licks up, making Tenma shiver softly.

“If I let your wrists go, will you behave?” Aron asks against his ear. He bites at Tenma’s lobe before he can reply.

“I always behave,” Tenma sulks, which is a blatant lie, but Aron lets it slide and frees his wrists. There will be finger-shaped bruises there later, and Aron will kiss them and thank Tenma for every single one of them.

But not now. Now the door hasn’t closed yet, and Aron has something to prove. He rolls his hips ever so slowly, feeling the muscles in his own thighs burn with the effort it takes to keep his movement measured. He’s leaning on his arms, hands on the bed, face directly above Tenma’s. He’s so close he can follow the slide of a drop of sweat disappearing from his forehead into his dark hair, now even messier than usual from Aron’s pulling.

“Tell me what do you want, Tenma,” he murmurs.

“You,” his boyfriend replies, “You, you, you…” it becomes a litany of mindless sounds, as he tries to push his hips up.

“What did I just tell you?”

Tenma’s hips still, his eyes go wide with surprise, as if he hadn’t even realised what he was doing - and maybe he hadn’t. “I’ll behave!”

“Will you now?” Aron asks, stilling completely. He knows how good a view Yato has from behind them, but he thinks he should give Tenma a bit of a show too. He pulls himself up, showing off the body Tenma likes so much. Aron isn’t vain, not for himself, but he has seen himself in Tenma’s eyes enough to be secure in his own looks. Beauty doesn’t concern him in the slightest, but Tenma likes him, likes his shape, his body, and therefore his body is beautiful. His thin hips and long lines, his delicate wrists and bony shoulders, the pale skin and the soft blush that goes down to his chest, the pale pink of his nipples, the trail of near invisible blond hair going down to his cock, flushed and erect for Tenma, only for Tenma. All of that is beautiful, because it makes Tenma’s eyes widen and makes him forget how to speak, because it renders him breathless.

One of Aron’s hands touches Tenma’s cheek, then trails down his neck, his collarbone and down his ribs, so delicate it’s almost ticklish, it makes Tenma’s muscles jump underneath the skin. Then Aron starts touching himself, hands mirroring the path on his own body, and and then stroking himself just a little. Pearls of precome trickle down his fingers like silver and white paint. He has to bite his lips to muffle his moans.

“What if I just did this?” He asks, “What if I just used you and came, and then left you like this?”

The keen that comes from Tenma’s throat reverberates between them, tortured and aroused.

“Tell me again, Tenma, what is it that you want?”

“You, Aron, only you, only ever you,” he’s panting, but there is no mistaking the ache in his voice, the deep ferocious love behind those words.

“Say it again!” Aron commands, starting to move.

“Aron, Aron…” Tenma is trembling with the effort to hold still, panting and praying out his name, like that word alone can give him breath, and Aron drinks it all in. He loves Tenma so much and if he could, he would keep him inside of him forever. But he’s human too, his body had limits and his control starts to slip, his moves becoming more erratic.

In the slaps of flesh and muffled moans, no one hears the door close, but it doesn’t matter anymore, Aron has forgotten all about Yato and the only thing in his universe is Tenma’s rapt expression as he comes, and then the crashing waves of his own pleasure, taking him down into a few seconds of ecstatic blackout.


End file.
